


Worth It

by micehell



Category: Velvet Goldmine
Genre: Drama, Humor, M/M, Sports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-24
Updated: 2006-02-24
Packaged: 2017-11-12 00:16:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/484506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/micehell/pseuds/micehell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brian finds that his greatest fan makes it all worth it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worth It

**Author's Note:**

> Keep in mind I haven't had to hear about cricket for years, so my memory may have been faulty on the terms.

There's a game on the television above the bar and Curt gives it all of his attention, ignoring the way that Brian's flirting with their waitress. It's cricket, Lord help him, but Jerry of all people has been explaining the rules, and he's following along okay.

"And I can't go anywhere without people constantly following me. 'Oh, Mr. Slade, Mr. Slade, we love you. Can we have your autograph? Can we have your shirt? Can we have your babies?' And I love my fans, I really do, without them I'd be nowhere, but sometimes I wonder if the loss of privacy is worth it."

The bowler's really putting on a show of it, and the batsman's wriggling his body, his ass, loosening up for the ball.

"It can be very lonely, the fame. It's a cruel mistress, demanding so much of me."

The bowler's winding up his pitch now, and there's a wicked smile curling at the edges of his lips as he gets ready to ball the batsman.

"Oh, are you famous then? I don't get much of a chance to watch the telly, what with the kids and all."

The bowler stumbles, the ball stops short of the batsman's crease, and the umpire calls no ball on the play. Curt thinks that he's really starting to appreciate cricket now.

:::

"It's a shame, too, 'cause she was kinda cute."

Curt knows he really shouldn't bait Brian this way, but since he gave up heroin he's found that the days are longer than they used to be, and he has to find his fun where he can. They're alone in yet another boring hotel room, not expected anywhere for hours, and it's not like Curt has anything better to do.

Brian gives him the disapproving frown, and Curt's seen that before, but he still finds it kind of cute. Kind of sexy, too, and he feels the burn start low in his belly.

It wasn't like that oversized ego didn't need a check from time to time, but Curt knows that the waitress not knowing Brian had stung him a little. Fame means more to Brian than Curt can really understand, but then understanding's not really necessary for this.

Curt stands in front of Brian, clapping his hands together excitedly, bouncing up and down on his feet. There's a huge grin on his face and his eyebrows are invisible beneath his bangs as he, mostly, fakes overwhelming glee. His own fans tend to be more of the 'great gig, man, have a toke' type, but he's had plenty of opportunity to see how the girls and boys that flock around Brian act, and Curt's always been a fair mimic.

"Mr. Slade, Mr. Slade, I love you. I'm your biggest fan."

"You're my biggest something, all right." Brian's voice is still grumpy, but there's a little tug at the edge of his lips, and Curt knows he's fighting a smile.

He looks in Brian's eyes, sees things there he didn't used to believe in, and the burn in his belly is moving down quick. He touches himself through his jeans, already hardening. Brian's looking now, the tip of that wicked tongue wetly pink along the bow of soft, soft lips.

Curt unbuttons his jeans. There's no other layer between his cock and the air, and it's out, up, pointing straight at Brian, who's flushed now, his own pants -- tight, green satin -- doing nothing to hide his own interest.

"Can I have your autograph?" Curt's voice is rough, gravel, but Brian's eyes close at the sound, and his voice is already straining for air as he says, "But I don't have a pen."

Curt's on his knees, trying to get the satin pants off before Brian's even finished speaking. "I know where there's one you can use."

His own cock seems to be growing harder by the second, which might be what fuels Curt's impatience when he can't find the fastening to the pants, and instead rips them down Brian's slim hips, ignoring his protest over the destruction of the clothes. It's short lived, anyway, when Curt's mouth closes around his cock, no subtlety, sucking hard as he takes it all in.

Brian's hands are digging into his hair, his hips jerking hard, pushing the cock further down his throat than Curt was ready for, and he's choking. But Brian's pulling out, pulling him up, kissing him even as he struggles for breath. "That's not where I want to put my signature."

Curt's doesn't always like being fucked, he gets lost sometimes and then it just hurts, but he's so hot right now he could burn, and Brian's right there, and Curt wants him so fucking bad he could scream. "Yeah, okay."

They separate long enough to get underessed. Curt's naked in seconds, but Brian still has his shirt on. It's frilly, fussy, with what has to be a million fucking little buttons, and now that Curt's agreed to being fucked, he damn well wants to be fucked now, and nothing's going to stand in his way.

"Mr. Slade, Mr. Slade, can I have your shirt?" He doesn't wait for a reply, pulling the damn thing off, sending the buttons flying everywhere.

Brian's face has gone feral, flushed, and he pushes Curt down on the bed, a low, deep sound coming from the back of his throat, part growl, part moan. Curt's neck arches in instinctive submission, and Brian's teeth latch on, right above the join between neck and collarbone. The teeth go deep, drawing a little blood, and they're both moaning now.

Hands in his hair are holding it down, the tug on his scalp sharp, and, God, so hot, and Brian's sucking like he's a fucking vampire. Curt feels all of it like it's on a direct line to his cock, and he wonders if he's going to come before anything even happens.

But Brian seems to catch the thought. He licks his palm, saliva tinged a slight pink, and then he's pushing Curt's legs up, back, pushing in. Curt's ass doesn't seem to be aware that he wants this, and it's been a while, so he's tight, and it hurts. But that's Brian's cock, and Brian's spit, and a little of his own blood, and the conjunction of elements, the congruence, is like alchemy, transmuting pain into pleasure so intense he can't think.

He's not given any time to think, anyway. Brian's slamming in quick and hard, and they're apparently in a race to see who can come first. Curt can barely hear Brian's cry as he comes over his own shout, white noise in his ears like the sound of waves as his whole body contracts and expands, the biggest bang ever.

Brian's heavier than he looks lying on top of him, but Curt is too limp, too fucking well-fucked to do anything about it. He's going to be walking funny for days, but he hasn't felt this good in just about forever, so he doesn't care about that, either.

There's a dopey, happy grin on Curt's face that he can't help as he runs one hand down Brian's back, the other caught in the fine hairs at the base of his neck, and he says, "Mr. Slade, Mr. Slade, can I have your babies?"

There's a giggle, the breath of it tickling over Curt's ear, and it makes Curt laugh in return. "Not unless there's something you forgot to tell me, love."

Curt knows there's something he should say; that word that Brian uses so casually, something that Curt thought he'd left behind half a lifetime ago, but the moment is too good to ruin with anything serious, and he really has learned to take his fun when he can. He kisses Brian instead, letting his lips say things for him.

Brian pulls up, still half on Curt, but resting his weight on his arms. His lips hover over one nipple like it was a microphone. "I love my fans, I'd be nowhere without them."

He licks the nipple, his cock starting to stir again, and it's not like Curt is wildly objecting to the idea of more sex, but he still teases, "But is it worth it?"

This time it's not a giggle, but a full-blown laugh, warm, then cool across the spit-wet nipple. They're both hard now, moving slowly against each other, and Brian's smile is as dopey as Curt's when he says, "Well worth it."

And it is.  
/story


End file.
